Map, for you to me.

Write me a poem,

With your tongue against my skin.

Undress me some more,

With your eyes.

I’ve held these secrets too long,

Too tightly, too close.

Peel them away from my flesh,

Maybe I’ll show you,

Where it hurts the most.

There’s a hurricane in my chest,

Tearing me apart, 

I hold on to the bed stand, 

Fighting demons that aren’t mine.

 Can you see the storm building,

In my eyes, 

Can you feel my pulse?

I hear you outside my door, 

I smell you in my hair.

I wear you like a second skin, 

Terrified to believe,

Terrified to lose.


Put your hands on me,

Claim me.

I’ve waited far too long,

For salvation that comes with pain.

For your force,

To bend my will,

To your whim.

I’m a puppet in your hands,

I’m fire,

And you fan my flames,

To a frenzy,

I haven’t known before.

I feel your pace,

In my heart beat.

Your breath hot against my being,

Oh baby, break me some more,

Before you leave.

Maybe I’ll build myself back, 

From the rubble your hands made me.

The black and blue lines,

You left on my soul,

Maybe that is the map,

That’ll lead you back home.

To my arms.


Does he?

This boy.

Tell me, how does he make you feel?

Not on dates,

When you’re dressed to kill,

The yellow lights making your skin sparkle

Just like the look in his eye.

But on busy Monday mornings, 

When the day doesn’t seem enough,  

And you don’t have a minute to blink. 

Not on moonlit 3 AMs, 

When his lips are pressed against your chest,

One hand in your hair, 

The other weaving  magic on your body. 

But on Wednesday nights,

Your hair oily and skin lacklustre,

When you explain in clear tones, 

Why his reasoning is flawed.

Not when you’re calling him first,

To tell you what made you happy today,

Or what broke your heart,

Your voice high with emotion, 

Your breath uneven.

But on lazy Saturday afternoons,

When you don’t feel too much of anything

When you’re just content, 

To lie on the bed with a book.

Tell me,

Does he kiss your everyday thoughts,

As intensely as that freckle on your neck?

Tell me,

Does he know the depths of your mind,

As well as the corners of your mouth?

Tell me,

Does he like listening to your day,

Your mundane everyday,

As much as your voice in his ear,

Calling his name?

Dear girl, tell me,

This boy,

If he doesn’t find magic,

In your ordinary,

Does he deserve your magic at all?


I walk out of my room,

My head heavy,

The only thing messier than my bed.

Hair standing on its ends,

From my fingers tracing it’s root,

Pulling it out.

Maybe I should tell you.

That I’ve been through hell and back.

That sometimes all I see is in monochrome.

Maybe I should make you see,

That the red on my skin doesn’t wash away,

That my heart beating out of habit,

Doesn’t really beat sometimes. 

How do I tell you?

When its the smell of your skin,

Your aftershave in the bathroom stand,

Your tie hanging off the edge of my wardrobe,

Are all that reminds me I’m still alive?

How do I make you see?

When it’s your voice singing my favorite songs off key,

The sound of you in the kitchen,

Burning yet another toast,

Your heartbeat against my chest,

Is all I hear when the night seems too loud?

I grit my teeth,  

I stand up straight, 

I steel my resolve,

Today I set you free.

Maybe you’re whole enough,

For the two of us,

But darling, I’m messed up for a million.

I walk out of my room,

I see you at the table,

Pouring yourself some orange juice.

So normal, so regular, so magical.

Your shirt crumpled,

Your head messier than mine.

You turn around,

You give me a half smile,

The gap in your teeth,

Achingly familiar to my tongue.

You look at me.

You know what I want you to do,

I know what you will never do.

If I asked you to run from me,

You’d plant your feet stronger on the ground.

I stand there for a moment.

Trying to hold your sunshine in my palm,

Trying to fill your sunshine in my being.

For a second last night seems like another life time.

For a second,  your existence seems to fill all the holes in mine. 

You shake your head,

As you walk towards me.

For a second, I believe in forever.

For a second I’m alright.

Ex Best Friend For Life

To the girl that left,

It’s funny how we met and how we left. It happened without a reason. Happened exactly as it shouldn’t have. 

From being called twins to barely acknowledging each other we’ve come a long way in figuring out this thing called existence. 

We weren’t supposed to be friends. But somehow weirdos find each other, even the completely opposite ones. 

You would’ve probably been a little more popular, I would’ve buried my nose a little deeper into accounts, if we hadn’t happened to laugh at the same joke at the same time, catching the inuendo no one did.I wish I could say, after that there was no looking back. Maybe I should say that, looking back puts a lump in my thiroat. 

This is the funny things about goodbyes. We use the word so much. Before we go to work, when hang up the phone, when we’re fake mad. We use the word so much except when we have to really say it.It’s funny how I never got to say goodbye to you, my best friend. Now as I’m busy pretending that I don’t miss you, I don’t seem to find the motivation to tell you those two words that will mark the end of an era. Our era. 

Maybe I should tell you other things, explain myself. But how do I tell you that the only reason I couldn’t hold your hand when you needed me the most was because I was struggling to hold my own?Or that I didn’t realise the last time we fought would be the last time we spoke. That you wouldn’t call me again after 3 months or that I  wouldn’t turn up at your door step out of the blue and we’d talk about astrology and the secret of life, sipping golas at Bessie?

The fact that we don’t watch re-runs of gossip girl and talk about boys anymore breaks my heart a little bit more than that boy who won’t text me back.

It’s funny how this ego never reared his ugly head when we couldn’t stop ourselves from texting those stupid boys we weren’t supposed to text. But then again I was there to talk you out of your madness and you were there to break my phone. I think we taught each other well since we seem to be playing this game of who will text first like pros. Or maybe you’ve borderline given up like I have?

From being sisters over misters to fighting over misters, you’ve been the Serena to my Blair. Even though we don’t call each other on our birthdays I send out a wish to the universe to keep you safe. Harry Potter will always be tinged with our debates.I can’t ever listen to some of my favorite songs without thinking of those lazy afternoons when you made me listen to you play your guitar.

So dear girl, who was supposed to be my bffforlyf, this is me saying it. Saying goodbye. And it’s okay.  These memories are ours to keep. But it’s cathartic to let go.

I know we didn’t do the ‘over qualify ourselves and work in in a different country every year’ thing like we planned. And maybe that’s that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s the idea that matters. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s okay.
But thank you, for being my bff. Even if for a while. You will always have have a piece of my heart. My door’s always open, but I won’t be waiting by the window with pizza in my hand and fresh gossip on my lips anymore. 

Ex best friend

Damsel in Distress

You know that feeling?
That starts at the tip of your fingers,
And fills your lungs?
Like rays of blinding light,
Hurting your eyes.
Yet you refuse to close,
Stand there without blinking,
Stuck in limbo,
The weight of inertia,
Breaking your spine.
Your ears stinging,
From the noiseless scream,
In the pit of your stomach,
Building up to break the silence,
Choking midway,
Dying without an echo.
Your hands red from the effort,
Of holding onto the dying embers,
Of sanity, of someone, of something.
Trying desperately to fill,
The endless chasm,
Shaped like regret.

You see that’s the thing,
About being a Damsel in Distress.
There are no skinny jeans,
Collar bones showing off,
The insomnia,
As you sip your tea,
With prettily unkempt hair,
Taunting the guitar toting superman,
To hold you,
In the cradle of his arms,
And save your soul,
Like every movie ever made.
There is just the dark circles,
The stretch marks, the flabs,
From the donuts you couldnt fight,
The trail of hair,
On the bathroom floor,
The water drowning your tears.
Your eyes sore,
From fighting too much,
Your heart sore,
From loving too hard.
The strong arms,
That hold you upright,
Are your own,
Except that they aren’t arms,
They’re your legs,
Shaking under the enormity,
Of your loss.
As you take a step,
On the thorns that singe your soul.
Holding on to the memory,
Of your father’s face,
When he looked at you with pride.
‘Just a little while’, you repeat,
For the hundredth time.
‘Just another mile.’

You’ll laugh at me,
If I tell you,
That herein lies magic.
The last deep sigh,
The drowning man takes,
Before he reaches the shore.
The cry of static,
The pace of pulse on the monitor,
As the dying man flatlines,
Before coming back to life.
The night is darkest,
Right before dawn.

Tighten your cloak,
Grease your blisters,
Place your feet on the fire,
Inch forward.
Onwards and upwards.

You see the view from the top,
Will remind you of the magic,
Of when you lay facedown,
In the gutter,
Waiting for the saviour,
That is you.
Magic is those moments,
When breathing was hard,
But you opened your lips,
And forced air into your lungs.

This girl,
This damsel in distress,
Is not a dainty princess,
With flushed cheeks.
She is ugly and coarse,
She swears like a sailor,
Runs with the wolves,
Falls down broken,
Cries alone,
And sometimes refuses,
To get out of bed for days.
She is everything,
You never wanted to be,
She is everything,
You had to be.

This damsel in distress,
This girl that is you,
This is for you.

When you can finally scream,
Move, breathe, be,
You will know,
That this damsel in distress,
Is everything that is magic.
This damsel in distress,
Is everything you ever needed.


We met,

For a moment our hearts stopped,

You reminded me of songs, 

I’d sworn not to remember.

I made you think of spring, 

In the midst of autumn.

You have your walls,

I have mine.

But let me in,

Maybe there is life beyond,

This abyss we see in each other.

Maybe we’ll explore,

The dark places of our souls.

Maybe your darkness,

Is exactly the light I need.

Maybe my emptiness is the antidote,

To the deafening silence you hear.

I’m scared you’ll break me.

Maybe that is the right way.

All dead things must break,

For new things to grow.

We have unfinished stories,

That won’t be perfect endings,

To each other.

Maybe we can write a new episode,

And throw a prayer to heaven,

That it’s the pilot,

Of new things to come. 

Your hands feel too big,

Too strange, in mine. 

We won’t fit like a puzzle,

Rather like ill shaped stones.

But hold me tight, darling.

Maybe we can start a fire,

That’ll warm this winter.

And maybe this winter,

Will remind us of hope.

For one night

You have jagged scars, 

Eyes glazed with your past,

I have bruises, purple and red,

The worst more than skin deep.

I don’t know you,

I don’t want to.

You don’t know me,

You don’t have to.

Just stay a while,

Let’s sit under the stars.

The world  is young, unlike our hearts,  

We’re weary, but no matter,

In silence we’ll find companionship. 

Maybe for a night,

You can be a seller of dreams,

And I, the will ‘o the wisp.

Show me your heart, I promise,

Not to remember,

Not to hold it against you.

Maybe let the hood down,

And the car seat up,

Let’s singalong to Chainsmokers,

Perhaps talk about all things arcane.

The moon on our faces,

Starlight  in our thoughts.

For a night, let’s pretend,

That I’m a wench,

And you, a stable boy.

Or do you want to be a prince?

Or maybe just a pair of lost souls,

Stumbling into each other’s paths. 

Let’s talk battles and politics.

For a moment forget the pain.

I don’t want your story,

You won’t know mine. 

But I’ll tell you my favorite flower,

As we trace constellations in the sky.

Let’s share a smile, a laugh, a whisper,

And dream with our eyes open,

For a wee, let’s forget our demons,

Before we go our own ways,

Before we lose our own ways.

Maybe we’ll run into each other,

Maybe in the library,  

Maybe the market, 

And we’ll smile,

For a second remember,

The eternity of a single heartbeat. 

You and I, are of just this moment.

Without the bane of the past,

Or the lure of the future.

We are made of this hour,

And no more.

Take my hand,

Hold my gaze,

Steady and unflinching.

For one night,

Let’s lie on the grass,

Let it all go. 

For one night,

Let’s just be.